


Strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff

by loveinadoorway



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:38:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ comment_fic prompt by mangacrack: White Collar, Neal /& Peter, Neal is a shapeshifter living in a cave, Peter a knight looking for a treasure on order of his queen. But he never leaves the cave and becomes part of the treasure<br/>Title taken from "Puff the magic dragon"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff

“I thought you’d be taller.”

The second these words had left his mouth, Peter regretted saying them. Yeah, right, first thing you do, piss off the beastie. And size probably did not matter anyway, because this thing would now open its mouth, exhale and fry Sir Peter de Burke to a crispy critter. 

Queen Elizabeth might mourn him for a day or three and after that, all he’d be good for would be a tale in front of the fire. A cautionary tale for aspiring young knights, probably. 101 things not to do when you’re charged with slaying a dragon. Item one, do not insult its stature. 

That said dragon, surprisingly enough, stood perfectly still. Its black scales were reflecting the torch light and its blue eyes shone eerily as it cocked its head. If it were at all possible, Peter would have said the thing looked grudgingly amused. Maybe a little intrigued. But that was probably just a trick of the flickering torch light.

“Personally, I think I’m pretty much the perfect size. You see, these caves don’t actually have a lot of headroom,” the black dragon said in a somewhat amused voice.

They were not supposed to talk. They were not supposed to possess intelligence enough to do anything much besides stealing princesses and hoarding treasures. But then again, they were also supposed to be tall as houses, not more or less man-sized.

“I’d really like to know where you get your information from, Sir Knight, given that we really don’t like for anyone to know about us,” the dragon continued, sounding far too polite.

“But…. But… but everyone knows about dragons, really. Breathe fire, abduct and eat princesses, collect shiny things?” Peter stammered. 

“Yeah, well, DRAGONS might do all that. This here,” at that the dragon made an elegant gesture from his chin downwards, “this here is just one of my… manifestations, one might say.”

With that, the entire dragon started to shimmer, contract, change, shift, until Peter came face to face with man. A very handsome man, one might add. And a very naked one.  
Peter swallowed convulsively as the armour he wore suddenly became even more constricting than it usually already was.

“You see,” the man continued, as completely unperturbed by his nudity as he was by the fact that Peter was in full armour, mace in one hand and sword in the other, “I am a shapeshifter. And as such, I am more or less bound by my own size when I change into something else.”

The man turned and walked towards a table heaped with gold coins, jewelery, goblets and plates. He took two goblets, filled them with wine and handed one to the speechless Peter, who obediently dropped the mace to grab the goblet. The man then walked towards an armchair, slipped into a robe and sat down, motioning for Peter to sit on a sturdy-looking bench.

Peter opened the clasps of his gauntlets with his teeth, then shrugged them off. Whatever this was, it was obviously not the kind of hostile environment where full armour was called for.  
He laboriously got rid of his helmet.  
For anything else, he would need a squire’s assistance.

He had been so focused on his task that he hadn’t even noticed the man leaving his chair. Deft fingers were finding hidden clasps and catches and no squire had ever peeled him out of his armour that quickly before.

“That’s better, isn’t it?”

More wine was poured into Peter’s goblet and he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful those deft fingers were. Unbidden, his mind started to wonder what those fingers would do with various parts of his anatomy.

“My name is Neal, by the way. Neal Caffrey.”

“Peter de Burke.”

Good. At least there was enough blood left upstairs to remember his own name and make speech possible. He was sweating and fervently hoping Neal would somehow overlook the rampant erection in his tight undergarments.

Neal had hunkered down in front of him and his gorgeous blue eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“Hm. No. That won't do at all. I think I will call you Princess.”

“WHAT?”

“Well, you said my kind abducts princesses and steals shiny things. Right now, I’m not sure which of those two you are, but I’m definitely going to keep you. And since princesses actually are not for eating, but for fornication, well, a princess you are.”

Somehow, that actually made perfect sense to Peter, especially when that quirky, sinful mouth claimed his just a split second later.


End file.
